Chapter 47: The Emperor’s Robe

“His Majesty wishes to spend even a brief moment with you whenever he can, Lord Fria. You are now permitted to come out as far as this inner chamber. If you move this painting, the wall will open and then close on its own. When coming out from the hidden room, wind the clockwork above the fireplace to the left. There is a time limit, so you must move quickly.”

The chamberlain pushed the painting aside to demonstrate. The hidden door slid open soundlessly, only to shut again before one could count to seven.

So that was why the emperor had moved toward the fireplace earlier.

Having learned the secret of the hidden mechanism, Fria’s eyes sparkled. Even if he could only come out this far, it felt as though he could go anywhere.

For the time being he intended to behave cautiously and avoid provoking the emperor, but if an opportunity arose, he planned to summon Judith somehow and at least show his face.

“Were my attendants very worried? I caused them concern, so I’d like to send word that I’m safe.”

“I can deliver a message, but it may take some time before a reply arrives. They are currently on leave.”

“Leave?”

“Yes. Thanks to His Majesty’s consideration. All but one have returned home.”

“Did Judith stay behind?”

Fria spoke his head maid’s name with visible hope. If it were Judith, she might well have refused to leave and staged a protest in front of the imperial palace demanding Fria’s release.

“It was the maid who came from Lady Lindgart’s residence. She said she had nowhere to return to.”

“You mean Olga. Please look after her well in my stead, Chamberlain.”

Since she had returned to the place she came from, there probably was no major problem, but hearing she had no family to go back to made Fria’s chest ache slightly.

Unlike strong-willed Judith, bright and cheerful Libron, or prickly Isabel, the image of the quiet brown-haired girl who had always silently remained at her post drifted through his mind.

“They will return in about fifteen days. By then, preparations should be complete.”

“That long? Preparations for what?”

“For the sake of your future delight, I shall remain silent. I am certain you will like it.”

The chamberlain slowly nodded with a meaningful smile.

So he was really expected to remain trapped here for another two weeks? Preparations? Preparations for what exactly?

A dreadful premonition ran through Fria.

****

Fascinated, Fria repeatedly activated the hidden mechanism, going back and forth between the secret room and the inner chamber. It made him feel like the hero of an adventure story.

If he had a place like this himself, perhaps he could occasionally escape Judith’s endless chatter and enjoy some precious solitude.

After waiting for the fire to die down, he wrapped the medicine he had retrieved from the fireplace in paper and hid portions of it in several places: inside the box containing his belongings, beneath a loose floorboard under the bed, and inside a drawer so stiff with disuse it barely opened.

The thin nightclothes had no pockets whatsoever, making the medicine difficult to conceal.

The thought of spending fifteen entire days alone with the emperor and without Judith left him too uneasy to sit still.

He paced the room, repeatedly peered out beneath the window, and carefully examined the paintings hanging in the inner chamber walls before evening finally came and the emperor returned.

****

Fria had thought this the last time he visited as well, despite the sheer number of books here, there were surprisingly few storybooks he actually wanted to read.

He absentmindedly flipped through a book he had already read earlier that day. Across from him, Owen, who had been reading quietly in an armchair, lifted his gaze at Fria’s restless movements.

“Is the content not to your liking?”

Why was he asking?

Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Fria answered cautiously.

“It’s not that. I simply already know the contents.”

“What book is it?”

Fria lifted the cover to show him the title. It was a collection of imperial folktales he had taken from the shelves.

Nodding in recognition, Owen added,

“I read that when I was ten. It has been a long time since I last saw it.”

His tone made it sound as though Fria were reading a picture book meant for children, which irritated him considerably.

Noticing Fria’s stare, Owen held up the book he himself had been reading. The unfamiliar foreign script written in place of the empire’s common language made Fria blink.

“It is a compilation of discussions between Krohipatos and his disciples.”

‘Ah. I see.’

Fria nodded politely despite himself.

Interpreting the expression somehow, Owen immediately launched into a lengthy explanation, even sketching diagrams in the air as he spoke.

How should the soul be defined? Is existence shaped by naming, or by unconsciousness? Does the soul belong solely to the body? Could dreams be considered the soul’s free journey?

Should the souls of four-legged beasts and two-legged beasts be valued equally? And if even lesser creatures possessed a sense of self, how then should one judge plants, which had neither eyes to see, ears to hear, nor mouths to speak?

After finishing his extensive explanation, Owen looked at Fria with grave eyes, as though requesting his opinion.

“…Ah, truly fascinating. Thank you for the explanation.”

The lecture had gone on so long Fria had nearly felt his own soul departing midway through, but he could hardly say that aloud. Perhaps if he fetched another book and pretended to read enthusiastically, he might escape this dreadful philosophy lesson.

Returning the folktale collection to the shelf, Fria instead retrieved the heroic tales Judith had packed for him and sat down again.

“What book is that?”

Seeing the worn cover stained from frequent handling, Owen asked with interest.

“It’s a collection of knightly exploits. Would you like to read it?”

He might not understand philosophy, but this beloved book at least guaranteed entertainment. Fria handed the leather-bound volume over eagerly.

“Which knight’s story do you like best?”

Opening to the first page, Owen posed the question.

Since Judith’s tastes differed from his own, Fria rarely had opportunities to gush freely about these stories. His eyes lit up at once.

“I love the tale of Sir Maxim. The scene where he struggles between his beliefs and his love as he decides to draw his sword in order to save a noblewoman suffering beneath a cruel lord’s abuse!”

Thinking of Maxim casting aside loyalty to his liege and his knightly duties in pursuit of love, Fria clenched his fists in excitement.

“The noblewoman was the lord’s wife?”

“Yes. Maxim falls secretly in love with the delicate Genevieve because of her flower-like beauty and gentle temperament. Then one day he picks up a handkerchief she dropped. The love he hid from everyone is finally revealed during a jousting tournament. The moment Genevieve sees her handkerchief tied to Maxim’s lance after his victory, her heart trembles with joy—that part is my favorite. In truth, Genevieve loved Maxim as well.”

“I see. So in the end, the lord is murdered by his own knight and loses his wife too.”

“Well, yes, but the man was absolutely terrible! From the very first night he forced himself upon her, beat her whenever he pleased, deprived her of freedom, isolated her even from her maids, and locked her away in her chambers—”

Wait.

This sounded strangely familiar.

Fria abruptly fell silent.

Staring directly at his face, Owen calmly agreed.

“Yes. Such a man deserves death.”

Gulp.

The sound of Fria swallowing nervously echoed in the room.

“…Well, you see. As Krohipatos argued, all life is precious, is it not? One should not casually take even the life of lesser creatures. Perhaps the lord had circumstances of his own?”

Let us hear the lord’s side of the story.

“So you agree with his philosophy. Tomorrow I shall bring you one of his disciple’s lecture collections. We may also read Lezenon’s rebuttal together.”

“…Thank you for Your Majesty’s generosity.”

Owen inclined his head with a magnanimous expression.

Meanwhile Fria, desperately resisting the urge to physically snatch the book away before Owen could continue reading Sir Maxim’s chapter, trembled with a strained smile.

****

Even during dinner Owen refused to put the book down. Eventually, after finishing, he closed it and rose from his seat.

Boys aspiring to knighthood were often sent away to relatives at a young age to begin service as pages.

Running errands for lords and knights alike, they learned to wield spears, shields, and swords through constant training before eventually advancing to squirehood and finally the trials required to become true knights.

Until adulthood, the only women surrounding them were usually the lord’s wife and daughters. Naturally, they devoted all their admiration and romantic longing to the elegant, virtuous older woman who was their lord’s lady.

Romantic knight tales were full of forbidden love: knights aching with secret devotion, surrendering their souls through brief exchanged glances, pouring desperate passion into sonnets written for unattainable women.

Sir Maxim was not the issue.

Seen from the lord’s perspective, the entire book was nothing but a compilation of adultery and betrayal.

Fria had never once considered the stories from the lord’s side before. But from the viewpoint of the emperor, the ruler of an entire empire, what a deeply immoral and deceitful collection it must appear to be.

Watching anxiously for Owen’s reaction, Fria grew even more nervous when the emperor stood up.

Indeed, what terrible people they are! Sir Maxim should be burned at the stake!

Preparing to betray his beloved fictional hero in self-preservation, Fria hurried to speak first.

“Max-”

But the moment he saw Owen pick up the robe draped over the empty chair, Fria instantly shut his mouth again.

Perhaps Owen was so disgusted by his defense of immoral literature and traitorous knights that he no longer wished to remain in the same room.

Yet instead of leaving, Owen walked directly toward him.

His gaze slowly swept over Fria from head to toe, Fria sitting there disheveled and unwashed, wearing the emperor’s old nightclothes.

Then Owen removed the robe from his own shoulders and draped it over Fria instead.

In an instant, the black fabric swallowed him whole, covering him all the way to his feet.

Looking strangely satisfied by the sight, Owen tilted his head toward the doorway.

“…Pardon?”

Was he telling him to leave? Throwing him out immediately?

Watching Fria’s bewildered expression with visible impatience, Owen finally spoke.

“Come with me.”

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